


My People say the Mirror Never Lies

by CapturedDawn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapturedDawn/pseuds/CapturedDawn
Summary: She was plain and unremarkable. But a shadow of the People.Fate would not let itself be controlled by the Gods or mortals.  Forgotten Ones or Elvhen.Solas would learn this the hard way. As would Caitiri Lavellan.





	1. Unremarkable

**Chapter One**

 

She was plain and utterly unremarkable.

Solas stared hard at the figure that lay on the cot before him, their breathing laboured beneath his gaze, their pallor dull and waxy.  

         “Unexceptional.” he mused as he looked over her with a cool analytic eye.  There was nothing worthy of note about her physical appearance, except of course for the familiar magic in the anchor that pulsated and beckoned to him. A beacon of light that reminded him with every fraught flicker and flare of his ultimate failure.

A descendant of the people as she was, besides the slave symbol of Sylaise that covered one of her closed eyes, only the upswept ears and perhaps prominent cheekbones and a somewhat pointed chin marked her as distant kin. But she was thousand times removed from himself. As alike as the common mutt was to the Wolf.  This child was a mere shadow of the ones who walked the lands before and only the familiar magic that flickered in a frail half-cusped hand held his gaze.

Yet she had thus far successfully fought the mark. She had fought it harder than what he had expected for just a shadow.

He had been here studying the glowing and flickering mark for hours, trying in vain to remove it or at the very least stem its growth. Several times already he had been holding her slender wrist firmly in his own lean fingers, and been caught off guard when she struck out with both strong magic and a small closed fist.

The last time she had done so it had felt as if it was more than just her fist and magic that lashed out.  Something fierce, biting, and afraid… her spirit? He could not say, but it unexpectedly lit up the room and pierced the wards he had woven so intricately about himself, stinging his inner most being for a haunting instant before he drove it back.

Solas strengthened the wards about himself, teeth gritted as he waited for her magic to settle. 

Once he thought her calm he let out a somewhat shaky breath and closing his eyes tried for the hundredth time to seek guidance from spirits who may be near. 

None answered. All were silent. He tried again, more fervently now, reaching out with magic and mind, annoyed that the slip of a Dalish girl had unsettled him as badly as she had.  His brow furrowed and his grey eyes opened and flashed with a rarely shown impatience. 

Nothing.

Giving an even rarer guttural cry of frustration he let the girl’s wrist drop and stood furiously, stalking the room back and forth, his mind racing.

Perhaps he should leave? 

If he couldn’t halt the magic… if he couldn’t stop the mark from growing…

Curse it all! He was still too weak.

And if the breach got worse? This hadn’t been in his plans.

He could go to the in-between if he had to and find shelter there. But then what of-

The Dalish girl gave a weak cry from behind him and he turned to look at her.

She writhed on the cot for a moment. He could sense her magic combating the mark, unconscious in its mechanisations, but holding it firmly back in a way that surprised him.

Walking slowly towards her he sat down quietly and watched her for several minutes, observing her silent yet furious battle with the mark.  His features slowly settled into a composed mask once more, eyes steely with patience a millennia in the making.

She had not given up. She was still fighting.

He lifted her wrist with gentle hands and with a measured sigh he focused on the anchor and got back to work.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_3 days later_

Hoisting Bianca over one shoulder Varric began the slow walk down the stone steps towards Havens holding cells.

He didn’t much like playing messenger boy, but, if it got him out of Cassandra’s way and actually doing something to help clean up the mess out there, he wasn’t about to complain.  Besides, the moody apostate hadn’t come up for air for too long. He needed to get him out to use his ice magic where it counted, too.

From what information he could get out of The Seeker and Nightingale, the Elf girl – Lavellan? – was more stable.  Solas had managed to curb much of the instability in the mark, but, there were still too many unanswered questions.  Varric wouldn’t guess on the status of her guilt or innocence yet. He had been on the receiving end of Cassandra’s interrogations so the girl definitely had his sympathy when she finally woke up and had to face the same.  But as far as if she had caused the explosion, or if she had been delivered out of the fade by Andraste herself… he didn’t know.  And right now he didn’t want to think about it.  He and any who could fight just needed to get out there and kill as many demons as they could.  That cursed hole in the sky wasn’t going anywhere.

_First Kirkwall and now here. Just when I thought I was free of the Seeker and could catch a break… of course it all turns to nugshit._

Coming to a stop in the unlocked doorway of the last cell he peered into the musty dim light to see Solas sitting next to the prisoner’s bedside, cradling her marked hand in his own, muttering quietly under his breath, eyes closed and brows furrowed.  Varric watched them for a moment, taking in the pulsing light, marvelling at the magic that spilled forth from the girl’s cupped hand and gently lit up the jail cell in soft bursts of green.  He could swear he could almost feel it, the hairs on his arms and back of his neck prickling.  He pushed the thought away.  That was impossible.

Solas’ eyes opened and he seemed to study the Dalish elf before him for a long moment before he reached a slender hand up and in a surprisingly tender gesture, softly wiped the prisoners pale hair from her face and tucked it behind a delicately pointed ear.

Varric cleared his throat, “Uh, Chuckles…”  

Lancing grey eyes swung to meet his and Varric grinned, folding his arms and planting his feet firmly apart as he stared back at the annoyed apostate. It was a new nickname for the stern elf that he had come up with a day earlier, and the fact that Solas disliked it just made it all the better.  “The Seeker sent me.” Varric explained, “She wants us both up in the valley to look at that new rift and hopefully stop shit from getting worse.”

Solas’ lips thinned and he looked back to the prisoner.

         “And what of our guest?”

         “Well no surprises here but Cassandra wants to talk to her when she wakes up.” Varric felt his grin slip a little as he added “There is nothing more you can do for her now anyway, right?”

Solas hesitated but then slowly nodded.  He stood and gathering the staff that was resting against the wall at the foot of the cot, grasped the wood so hard his knuckles turned white.  His face however looked deceptively neutral as he looked down at the prisoner. 

         “The rest is up to her.” The elf admitted quietly.  “Let us go and prepare for what comes next.”


	2. Meeting

By the Gods, it hurt.

Caitiri Lavellan’s lungs burned as she gasped for breath, stumbling to her knees on the rocky pathway, her good hand gripping her left wrist so tightly her nails cut into her skin.

Squeezing her eyes shut she bared her teeth against the ripping pain in her palm and tried to focus a small healing spell towards it… if nothing else to at least lessen the pain.  She felt her magic disappear into the thing – as if water into a vast ocean – and the pain remained.

_Sweet Sylaise… what is this thing?_  

She slowly opened her eyes to study her hand, noticing Cassandra’s scuffed boots come to a stop in front of her.   

They had defeated the last batch of demons and shades to fall from the breach, Cassandra dancing effortlessly through them while Caitiri drew what fire and lightning magic she could muster.  But she felt so weak.  With every pulse of the breach she felt something in her rip and the mark expand. Little increments, but agony.

Gravel and sharp stones dug into her kneecaps, bruising and cutting her skin through the soft weave of her pants.  She took a gulp of air, forcing herself to loosen the hold on her wrist and pick up the staff she had dropped.  Raising bright blue eyes she looked up at her jailor. 

Arcs of green light flashed and pulsated behind the Seekers dark head, playing about her silhouette like a sick halo, thrumming in time with the mark on Caitiri’s palm.

         “Can you stand?”  Cassandra reached out a strong gloved hand and Caitiri accepted it hesitantly with a grunt, letting the warrior pull her to her feet.  “We must hurry.”

Wordlessly the pair continued their steady pace towards the rift, Caitiri biting down on her lower lip to try and curb the pain that radiated up her arm.

Slowly the sounds of fighting, the crackle of magic, the thump of swords striking the tough hides of demons, and voices raised with adrenaline and rage reached them at the bottom of the hill. Cassandra broke out into a slow run, shield and sword now at the ready.

         “We’re getting closer to the rift. You can hear the fighting!” Cassandra called, voice raised an octave with excitement.

         “Who’s fighting?”

         “You’ll see soon. We must help them.”

She forced herself into a slow run alongside Cassandra, grip tight on her staff as she gathered magic about herself and into a protective ward. She let the magic spill over and onto Cassandra as well.  The Seeker briefly glanced at her in surprise before giving a slight nod of approval as they reached the crest of the hill.

Caitiri stumbled when she saw what was in the small valley beneath her.  Demons and soldiers were locked in battle, weaving, blocking, and countering beneath a flashing effervescent rift.  Smaller than the breach, it was no less dangerous, having obviously brought forth the demons the soldiers now fought so hard.  Caitiri’s hand throbbed in unison with the smaller rifts flickers and spurts of energy and she clenched it behind her back, and called through a mass lightning spell from where she stood on the top of the hill – bringing it crashing down upon most of the demons below.

Dazed, a few soldiers looked up to where she stood – a lone dwarf nearest the rift gave a boisterous yell of approval and a friendly wave, before he aimed an impressive looking crossbow and took out a demon that was locked in combat with a slender Elf mage.

Caitiri gathered a fireball spell, moving down the hillside towards the battling group.   Only one or two demons were left now.

Reaching the bottom of the hill and hopping over a small stone wall Caitiri joined the group, staff raised and poised to cast her spell.

She didn’t have a chance however.

         “Quickly, before more come through!”

A man’s yell from her left surprised her and she felt an iron grip take hold of her wrist and lift her hand up towards the rift.

Something in the mark flashed and surged in response to the strangers touch. It reached out, calmed, gathered and then…..

Caitiri couldn’t put it into words.  Light and magic surged from her hand, a steady stream of power that knitted the rift back together, weaving, dancing to seal back up the gash in the veil and heal the sky, seemingly guided by the stranger’s patient hand.

It was relief. It was peace. For a moment the pain was gone.  Pressure was lifted and the mark quietened.

Caitiri looked up in awe at the mage who had guided the magic so effortlessly. He was Elvhen, but bare-faced.  Grey eyes held hers, dancing with what looked like both relief and mirth. 

Caitiri’s voice sounded strange in her own ears as she managed to ask, “What did you do?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Solas watched the newly declared ‘Herald’ from the small circle of huts, his expression grave and eyes narrowed.

She had adapted to the mark reasonably well.  She had wielded and guided its power with ease which was somewhat surprising to him, closing each subsequent rift they encountered with a calm and graceful precision.  And she had even stopped the breaches rapid expansion. For now.

And then in the days that followed she had started to visit him and ask things that took him off guard.  Questions of the fade, of his travels, his past.  At first he had been nervous that she had somehow sensed something was amiss, but then he had relaxed and realised that it was a thirst for knowledge and learning that seemed to guide her to him. 

She usually came to visit him in the early morning when everyone else was still sleeping or out training.  They would stand chatting of various things in the softly falling snow, both unbothered by the cold, and delighting in the fresh scent of dawn. They could talk freely then, and surprisingly there were a handful of moments where they had laughed quietly together beneath the eaves of his hut – the breach forgotten for the moment.  He had not laughed for a long time.

But Solas was no fool.  He knew he was becoming a little too comfortable with the girl.  She was insightful and curious for one of the Dalish. Warm, humble and non-judgemental.  He did not hear the usual taunt of ‘flat-ear’ from her, nor did he see it unspoken beneath her piercing blue eyes. She did not dismiss the fade or spirits as readily as others he had met so far and seemed to want to know more about the wonders he had seen.

It was easy to tell her more than he should.  Many times he had to hold his tongue, and school himself into silence or steer the conversation elsewhere.

Solas breathed out heavily through his nose, annoyed.  He would have to try and wean her away from the daily visits. 

He watched her as she chatted warmly with Cullen in front of Havens Chantry, drawing a smirk and a rare soft laugh from the Commander.  The sound was carried on the icy wind over to where Solas stood arms folded and fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully, unseen in the shadow of Adan’s hut.

Another laugh from the Commander, louder than before with a bashful run of his fingers through his sandy hair as he looked down at his feet. 

Solas cocked his head to one side, brow raising slightly.

Were they… _flirting_? 

As if sensing someone watching, Lavellan’s bright eyes suddenly swung and locked with his across the wide courtyard, fixating on where he stood between the two huts.  Solas tensed under her gaze, before giving a slight nod of his head in greeting, and watched as she gave an uneasy wave back before ducking her head and folding her arms, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

Solas fought a smile and quietly stepped back from view and walked back to his hut to look back out over the valley and to observe the breach.

Yes. He would have to be more careful.  As it was he didn’t want to be seen watching the Herald any more closely than the others.  He didn’t want to draw unwanted attention from Leliana or her people. Thus far he had managed to evade notice and it would be foolish to change that now.

And the visits he decided, they needed to stop.


End file.
